


Firsts

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [20]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Hiccup and Astrid figure out how to stay warm.





	Firsts

**Firsts**

**-**

Once, she mentioned to him her fondness for winter. It was an early morning, right after her daily training, and she’d stretched her arms over her head and lifted her sweaty, pink-cheeked face to the cold gray sky. He’d remembered making a sound of disgust and shivering as his boots grew damp from the snow-mush at his feet. But Astrid had smiled and reached for a snowflake with her tongue.

Hiccup was infinitely more fond of the warmer months. Despite the many layers he wore, the blazing fire in their hearth, and his own personal two-thousand pound bed warmer, he stayed cold. Summers in the barbaric archipelago hardly reached above lukewarm, but they came with sunshine. It fought off the icy frost that froze his fingers during flights and sent his prosthesis slipping out from under him with every step. Summer was comfortable. Summer was good.

Winter did have its benefits, though. One in particular that he was fond of. The cold welded Astrid to his side, and none of the adults raised a brow at it. If the blonde saw someone frowning at her nearness with disapproval, all she’d have to do is give them a teeth-chattering little smile, and the glance would move away. She pressed herself against him with the excuse of sharing winter furs, but  _she_  was the one who kept  _him_  warm. 

One dangerous blizzard just a few days after Snoggletog taught him the skin-searing possibilities of winter.

It’d come from nowhere, a complete white-out. They were out flying, stretching the dragons’ wings after a few days spent busy with holiday activities when it hit. Hiccup could hardly hear Astrid’s voice over the screaming of the wind, and while he and Toothless were easy to spot, Stormfly and Astrid disappeared against the snow. It made him uneasy, not being able to hear  _or_  see her, especially with the icy blasts making it difficult to keep his eyes open. And so he’d gotten close, told her to follow him to the closest shelter to wait it out.  _  
_

The cave they found was shallow and tight, only allowing them a few yards of space after the dragons did their best to heat the rock walls and then curled into a sleeping pile. But the opening was at an angle. It kept the snow out and the wind off. Astrid stared out at the white blur, but Hiccup slid against the cave wall and stretched out his legs.

“It’ll pass,” he told her, trying to blow some warmth into his hands. “Come sit.”

She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a small smile. “I was just wondering if it’ll hit Berk. A lot of the hatchlings are still pretty weak fliers.”

Hiccup hadn’t considered it, but hopefully with the recent construction of the dragon stables, the babies would be kept out of danger. “They’ll be okay. They’re sitting all warm and snuggled together, I bet. Look at Stormy and Toothless.”

Astrid giggled as the Night Fury gave a well-timed snore. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tore herself away from the mouth of the cave and dropped ungracefully at his side. She sighed and eased herself under his arm, taking her usual place at his side. “Well. At least we get some peace and quiet. That’s been kind of few and far between lately.”

He snorted, understanding. Snoggletog, though delightful and exciting, quite often meant drinks in the Great Hall every night, family celebrations, private dinners. Not a lot of opportunity to steal away and find a cozy place for two. Getting time alone with his girlfriend was half the reason a flight had sounded so good to him. Pushing back the hood of her furs with his forehead, he pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply. Faint notes of spiced mead warmed his chest. 

“Do you think we’ll be here all day?” she asked, looking unworried. Her hands slid up and down her thighs, trying to garner some friction, and his gaze was inevitably drawn to the motion. 

“Probably not,” he shrugged, his eyes watching as her palms smoothed up to her knees, just a centimeter beneath the hem of her skirt, and then made the circuit again and again. “It’ll probably pass as quick as it hit.”  

“Mm.” Astrid’s fingers flexed. Then she broke into a sudden laugh. “You remember that one time we got trapped in that snow bank? Just you and me?”

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards. “A few years ago, yeah. Fishlegs had said—” Hiccup cut off abruptly, swallowing hard and tearing his focus away from the motions on her thighs. “Yeah, I remember.”

She paused, seeming to notice exactly where he’d ended his sentence. “Fishlegs had said… that we’d stay warmer by sharing body heat.” A pair of blue eyes flashed up to meet his, and he instantly felt his body rise a couple of degrees. There was a devilish glint in the way she was looking up beneath her lashes. “Ruff told me later it works best if you’re naked.”

Hiccup felt struck dumb, but he tried to play off the sudden thought of her bare skin against his with a chuckle of challenge. “Sounds like a plan to me. You first.”

Astrid snorted, shifting, and for a moment his heart lurched. Astrid Hofferson was not the one to take dares sitting down, he knew that well enough. Still, he’d hardly been allowed to slip his hands past the hem of her shirt in their most intimate moments. Stripping down would have been more than his poor teenage mind could handle. Luckily ( _Unfortunately_ , a part of him disagreed), she didn’t reach for her clothing. Instead, she knotted a hand in his riding cloak and used the leverage to pull herself up to her knees. Then she was straddling a leg over his lap. 

She raised a neat, blonde brow at his surprised pleasure. His pulse was quickening at his throat and further—  _further._  “What?” she teased. “Getting all shy on me now?”

Hiccup flushed. It wasn’t an  _unusual_  position for them, per se. They’d been stealing moments of intimacy in various shadowed places around the village for a couple of years. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of her weight above him, the secret trysts accented with clumsy hands, wandering lips, and embarrassed laughter. But this was new territory. This wasn’t on Berk, a stone’s throw from someone who might hear or pass by. This was miles from home, without a stern-faced chaperone in sight. 

“No,” he denied, sitting up straighter. His voice lowered in an impressive immitation of Gobber’s warning tone. “Just surprised how quickly ye gave into yer wanton urges.”

Astrid smacked his arm. “I’m keeping warm, you fiend!” 

“Oh,  _really_?”

"Yes, really,” she insisted, even as her smiling mouth lowered to his. Despite the numbness still trying to cling to his lips from the blizzard’s icy breath, he clearly felt the soft pressure of her kiss. She tasted sweet, like honey, and the echo of their traded breaths sounded amplified within the cave’s stone walls. Cold fingers slid against his neck, sending a thrill up his spine, and he wrapped a secure arm around her waist to keep her in place.

It never took long for the combination of her mouth and her weight to inspire his blood to rush. It was almost mortifying how quickly his body responded to her, a fire kindling in the pit of his belly and a dizziness consuming his thoughts. Of its own will, his hand slid to the small of her back and began massaging circles against the dimples he knew to find above the waistband of her skirt. It pressed her nearer, turning her gentle fingers into knots that tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. Her breathy little sigh was warmer than the cloak around his shoulders. 

He was reminded of a few months prior, of the forbidden touches they’d stolen in the forge after Gobber had retired for the night. Astrid had him backed against the wall, the saddle he’d been working on set aside and forgotten. Her kisses were hot and hungry, her touches demanding and her curves pressed hard against him. She’d even guided his hands beneath her skirt. Her moans when he’d kneaded the muscled flesh of her backside made his skin sizzle like he’d been burned. Fingernails scraped underneath his shirts, and twisting hips rocked against his with a rhythm that made him groan. 

When she hitched her leg around the back of his thigh, opening her to the firm bulge at his groin, she’d frozen. Hiccup blinked down with a nervous swallow. Her eyes remained closed, her parted lips just barely skimming his throat. She pressed experimentally against him, and his next breath was drawn between a clenched jaw. 

“Sorry,” he blurted, keeping his voice low lest he break the spell that had sent her to his arms. “You’re— I’m—”

Then her hand had slipped from beneath his shirt. He thought she would pull away, but then she found the length throbbing against her and  _squeezed_. Hiccup had thought the laces to his pants would snap. 

Ever since that night, when he’d instructed her with strangled whispers and brief demonstrations on how he liked to be touched, Astrid had seemed to make it her personal mission to earn that particular response whenever they were alone. Now, in the cave, with their body heat quickly driving the temperature higher, she seemed to be at it again. Her soft little rear ground against his lap in a starved way. He knew his girlfriend liked the taste of power. 

“Pull down my leggings,” she whispered, her mouth brushing the shell of his ear. His shiver wasn’t due to the cold. 

Obeying her command with enthusiasm, he reached between the pleats of her skirt and found the waistband of the thick wool tights. Then he was holding his breath as he hooked his fingers inside and tugged, brushing against soft, bare skin. His heart pounded in his chest, and she was pressed close enough that he wondered if she could tell. If not, his labored breathing probably gave him away. 

Hiccup swallowed. Just like that night in the forge, she reached between them, but this time she took his hands in her own. He could feel the fabric of her underwear brushing his fingers, and he spent a moment simply trying to keep his thoughts from blazing with excitement and nervousness. She guided the last layer down a few inches— not completely— just enough for her to gently ease his hand inside. He brushed against soft, damp curls. Blonde, he knew, and the imagery twisted a choking sound from his throat.

Astrid was blushing. He could tell even in the dim light that poured into the cave. She seemed hesitant to meet his gaze, but after placing one palm on her bare hip, she slid his other down to press against her heat. 

“How— how do you—" 

In his head, Hiccup was suave. He was a master of thoughtfully worded phrases, a seductive force of clever lines and talented hands. With her trembling touch inviting him to the wet warmth that he’d often felt through layers of clothes, but  _never_ like this— he was a stammering, stuttering idiot.

"How do you— I— pleasure you?” The words were awkward as they tumbled from his lips, but he was never one to dive into things. He wanted to know how they worked, why they worked. He wanted diagrams and blueprints, clear explanations. He learned better by taking things apart and putting them back together. But in this instance, all he had to go on were bawdy tales chuckled over drinks in the Great Hall and a glimpse of a drawing Snotlout had once swiped from his father’s things. It left him feeling unprepared. 

At least her soft laugh sounded as embarrassed as he felt. “It’s a little more complicated than yours,” she admitted breathily, but she slid her hands away from his and rested them on his shoulders. The little change spoke volumes, as if she was reading his mind. She was giving him the freedom to move, to explore. “I’ll let you know if you do something wrong.”

 _That_  didn’t feel comforting, the idea that there was an obvious right and wrong to this. But the way she gasped quietly when he finally gathered the courage to explore her slick heat told him that maybe her skin felt just as charged as his. His own nether regions throbbed at the thought.

It took him a moment to find his bearings, but before long, the scientist in him stirred to life. His fingers traced the shape of her, learned her outlines and curves, her dips and edges. Then once he could properly picture the secret haven in his minds’ eye, he was able to experiment. Circling a fingertip over the wettest parts of her earned him a hiss. Sliding his fingers up and teasing the strange, fleshy nub where her melting flesh began to cleft— that shocked her spine straight, made her jaw drop and her throat scrape out a moan. If he left his thumb for the sensitive bead and let the rest of his hand trail down to her opening, her thighs tightened around his hipbones and her fingers tugged at his shirts. 

Astrid let her eyes flutter closed and pressed her forehead to his, but Hiccup was fascinated. He watched the little twitches and twists to her expression with rapture as he explored. A single digit probed at her core, slowly pressing up to his second knuckle, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. When he eased a little deeper, the beautiful girl above him bit back a feminine noise of pleasure. The muscles of her body clenched and pulled at his finger, tightening and fluttering when he gently retreated and then pressed further again. She began to squirm and shift on his lap, seemingly trying to control the invading pressure, but the hand on her hip tightened with admonishment. Astrid stilled with a sharp exhale, and his brows shot up. 

Never in his entire life had the blonde been quick to obey him. But with one commanding squeeze, she’d followed his order. Shocked and extremely pleased, he rewarded her with the press of a second finger. Astrid arched. Hiccup felt drunk.

“This,” he swallowed, easing in and out of her heat. “This is good?”

“Yes,” she sighed with what sounded like bliss Her head fell back, and the tail of her braid tickled his knees. “Your fingers— thicker than mine.”

He felt his pulse race at the implication, and the thought of the purpose of the muscles clenching around his fingers. A hot coil of arousal had begun curling in his groin, and it was growing uncomfortably tight. It was difficult to resist the urge to pull her down and meet the press of his hips. 

“Faster,” she blurted, interrupting his thoughts, and he happily obliged. She was pulling again against the restraint of his hand, but now he could tell it wasn’t out of desire for control. Now it was the same way he surged and shifted under her touch when she had been working him with her fist and he was drawing near. Hiccup observed with heavy breathing as her expression grew desperate, her moans grew louder. Her muscles tightened, both around him and above him, and she whispered something that sounded like, “More.”

Then, just when her noises were escalating in pitch, she slammed her hand onto his forearm and gripped it tight. He instantly stilled, afraid he’d hurt her, but she just seemed to take a moment to breathe. Then she opened her eyes, and he found an unusual vulnerability there. She pinned him with her blue, blue gaze, her pupils wide and unfocused. 

“Can I…” she trailed off, not loosening her hold on his arm. “Can I have you?”

What blood remained in Hiccup’s brain made a quick journey to his groin. He blinked, speechless, and then glanced over at their dragons. Stormfly and Toothless slept unaware. Outside, the blizzard raged on. Then his eyes moved back to the girl shaking on his lap, the shadows spilling over her cheekbones, her slightly parted lips. Desire raged like a beast inside him, but he forced himself to knit together a scrap of self control.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, searching her expression. There were words that needed to be said first, promises he intended on making. He needed her to know that he meant those things, that she didn’t have to earn them with pleasures either now or later. 

But his questioning didn’t seem to dissuade her. If anything, the corners of her swollen mouth curved, and he caught a glimpse of the girl that caught snowflakes on her tongue. The girl he’d decided he was going to keep long before she settled her weight on top of him. “I’m sure if you are,” she answered just as quietly. 

His thick swallow and decisive nod were enough to bring the nerves back to her gaze. But she didn’t hesitate. Astrid released his arm, freeing up her hands to fumble at the laces of his pants. Her bangs fell into her eyes as she tugged at the knot with shaking fingers, and he retreated from beneath her skirt to help her. Together, they worked open the strings and shimmied his hips free. When she took him in her soft hands, he could only grunt and pray to the gods that this wasn’t some sick dream he was about to wake from. 

“It’s— it’s supposed to hurt,” she suddenly admitted, blinking up to meet his gaze. Her grip worked him with practiced familiarity, but the confession had stifled his pleasure. “The first time, I mean. For me. Probably not for you.”

Hiccup was the one to still her hands this time. “I can wait. We can do this another day.” Giving her a crooked half-grin, he attempted to lighten his tone. “A warmer day. When we’re not trapped in a cave.”

“I like being trapped in a cave with you.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and squeezed the blazing rod in her hands. He saw stars. “I was just letting you know so you don’t— you know— freak out on me.”

He raised the hand not slicked with her arousal to push back the tendrils of blonde that had stubbornly fallen back into place. “I promise to only freak out if absolutely necessary.” 

Astrid snorted. “Shut up and kiss me. Idiot.”

Her idiot was happy to obey. She quickly made it difficult for him to concentrate, meeting his mouth with a rekindled hunger and stroking him with both hands. When it became hard not to groan, to gasp, to mutter her name, she finally eased her motions. Then she was rising up on her knees, and his stomach lurched at the damp heat of her sex above him. She sank down slowly, and his gaze fixed on her lips as they formed two words.

“ _Oh._ Hiccup.”

He learned that winter that his Viking woman kept him warmer than any furs ever could.


End file.
